Waiting
by Wintersturm
Summary: It's always so easy to believe that you're important to someone else. But what if you find out that you were mistaken? Ken finds out.


I remember the way it was supposed to be: Miyako and Hikari, Iori and Takeru... and you and I. We were supposed to be the best friends ever, knowing things about each other that others didn't. There were secrets that we could share, just the two of us, that no one else would ever know of. Little things like that that kept us bound together, things that made me feel a part of something, that made me feel... good about myself. 

I guess I was sceptical at first, worried even, that it was going to be too good to last. I was terrified that it would just be like the bubbles-- a moment's beauty that would fade away with time. And I didn't want that. Not to show you all that I was, and then have it all disappear like the bubbles that would surely break. I never wanted it to disappear. Perhaps that was where our problem lay. 

You were always the cheerful one, rash and impulsive, whilst I was your calm counterpart, who helped to keep you in check. At least, that was how it was supposed to be. Perhaps the problem was that I never was who I was supposed to be after all. For far from being the impenetrable Ichijouji Ken, I was just a child, a child who could feel hurt. 

You didn't know much about me, or at least, not as much as you thought you did. You read me better than anyone else, understanding my moods in a flash, and adjusting your own to suit mine. And I loved it, honest I did. For when I was down, you cheered me up with your cheery smile. When I was happy, you laughed with me. And you made me feel alive, made me remember _why_ I lived-- that life was still good. For during those few short months where we knew each other, I was, for the first time in my life, truly happy. For I believed that with you, I could let my masks fall away. I didn't need to worry about living up to expectations, or hiding my ugly side from you. You, who saw me in my entirety, had no use for masks. Or at least, so I believed. 

You know how they say good things never last? I wish I could disprove that theory, to stand up proudly before the world and say, "That's not true. Look at me! I've got friends. I'm happy. And it will last." And there was a time when I would have done so, for I believed so strongly in you... in myself. Perhaps that was my mistake-- believing in myself was a mistake. 

I should have known it was a mistake from the start. Why would anyone like you want to be near me, or make friends with me? People like you, who have everything, have no need for wannabes like me. I ought to have realised that. I guess I'm really nothing without the dark spores after all. For without them, I'm not even smart, I can't even tell the truth from a lie. I guess maybe that's why things never went the way I wanted them to... because I never amounted to anything much... and never will. 

I don't blame you for wanting to be apart, or for wanting to spend time without me. It's perfectly reasonable, actually. For I know that spending time with me is a chore, is something that you would tolerate, but you'd rather spend time elsewhere, with someone else. That has to be why everything changed so fast. Because I'm boring company. 

I guess all along our friendship was based on nothing but on the fact that we were so different that I seemed appealing, interesting. For you had no idea who I was, or what I was. To you, I was Ichijouji Ken, former genius and Digimon Kaiser. That was no doubt different from what you had been exposed to. Not that I wish you'd have a chance to go through any of that. For now that I have awakened from my feverish dream, I realise that all those were just foolish games played by an ignorant fool. And I know, now more than ever, that no matter how tempting the idea may be, I cannot give in to temptation, and allow the dark spore to control me again even if I were offered a chance; the stakes are too high. 

Perhaps it was in you that I found the courage that I had always lacked. The courage to be myself, to say no, to say "I like that", instead of the indifferent "that's fine" which I was used to giving. I guess what they say is true. There is no middle ground for emotions. You either feel fully, or feel nothing at all. And when I feel the pain that is possible to feel, I can't help but wish for the familiar, safe numbness. The numbness that would never let me feel true joy, but at the same time would never let me feel pain. I guess that's why I know I'm a coward. Because I can't bear to take any pain. A little bit of pain would be enough for me to want to give up. 

In that sense, I guess, I know I am once more no match for you. Maybe that was why you chose to distant yourself. Because I am way too weak to earn your respect, and a relationship without respect won't work out at all. That might be why you chose to leave. 

I still remember the day that my world came crashing down onto me. I was walking back from the store, wondering if I could stop by your place and maybe have a game of soccer with you. I didn't like soccer much, but I knew how much you loved it. And if playing a game I didn't particularly mind made you happy, and made you enjoy my company... I guess I was willing to do it. 

Yet as I passed the field where we normally played, I noticed you playing with someone else. Was it Takeru? I believe so. Blond hair isn't that common after all. And then, I knew for certain, that I was out of my league. For far from that being something that you reserved for doing with me, and me alone, playing soccer one on one in that special field was really nothing more than something you did with others like me. And for some insane reason, it smarted. 

I mean, there's nothing wrong with it. You should enjoy yourself. Even if it meant enjoying yourself without me, doing something which I had foolishly assumed was something between the two of us like DNA Digivolution, I guess it's ok. Because it was my fault, from the very beginning. For I ought to have known better, that no matter what you tell me, no matter what signals you give, anyone _can_ be replaced. The soccer field is proof of that. 

Perhaps I'm making a mountain of a molehill. I'm good at that, making things seem more than they really are; that's what I do best, is it not? But somehow, at this point in time, it doesn't feel like it. And it sure didn't feel like it those weeks ago when I saw you at the fields, when you were playing happily without me. 

You used to call about things involving the Digidestined, or those emails that never failed to cheer me up. Regardless of what news it brought, I couldn't deny that it felt good to be wanted... needed. For all my life, I have been Ichijouji Ken, youngest son of the Ichijouji family-- the extra. When Osamu died, I realised then that no one wanted me near, not even my parents. Why else didn't they come near me once Osamu was gone? Why didn't they gather me in their arms and tell me that it was all right to cry? I had dreams of how they'll gather me close and tell me how I was all they had left... but nothing happened. We sat there in silence, thinking back of Osamu. Osamu again, always Osamu. I hated Osamu more than ever, and I hated myself for thinking that. For it was I who had caused Osamu to leave, because I was jealous. And I still didn't learn. If Osamu's death didn't make any impact on me, what will? Perhaps I have a heart of stone after all. 

But you crept in, drawing me out, making me feel wanted, needed. You saw me, and spoke to me. You cared, or so I thought. And I couldn't help but feel it was just about the most cruel trick you had played. Why did you have to try to draw me out, if you never wanted to talk to me in the first place? Why didn't you just leave me in my shell, safe and alone? Why did you draw me out only to hurt me? To make me gaze longingly at the phone, wishing that it would ring, and I would hear your voice when I answered, or the expected glances at the D-terminal, waiting for that email which would never come? I hate you, Montomiya Daisuke, for making me such a whimpering fool, for making me wait endlessly for something that would never come, yet trying not to give up hope that someday, by some miracle, the phone _will_ ring and it is you at the other end, telling me cheerfully of a gathering that would take place sometime or another. 

For in spite of all I say, despite all I do... I know, that somewhere deep inside, I'm wishing harder than I ever had... that someday, it just might come true. 


End file.
